


Waiting Inside

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Community: sentinel_thurs, M/M, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Jim takes in the view from the balcony.





	Waiting Inside

**Author's Note:**

> for Sentinel Thursday Challenge 627: carve

It's cool out. 

Night's falling fast. The light spilling from the loft out onto the balcony is growing stronger by the moment, and Jim turns to face it, leaning back against the railing to take in the view framed in the windows.

It's a view worth looking at: Blair, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, with his eyes closed and his hands resting on his thighs, palms up. The glow of the lamp on the table behind him toys with Blair's hair, backlights his head with a halo of golden light. 

_A halo._ Jim can't help but smile. Blair's no angel.

He's no Buddha, either, even if right now he looks as serene as any statue of a Buddha that Jim's ever come across. 

The light from the candle on the coffee table flickers over Blair's skin; teasing touches that flirt with his lips, the five o'clock shadow on his jaw, the lean line of his throat. Teasing candlelight touches, flirting with Jim. 

Jim's up for it. 

Inspired, even. In an entirely earthy way that has nothing to do with halos or angels, or with Buddhas carved in stone. He's tempted to go inside right now and redirect Blair's focus from meditation to a little heavy-duty making out, see where that leads them. 

Like there's any doubt where that would lead them. Jim can't help but smile again. 

The coolness of the evening air serves to underline the warmth that's waiting inside. For a moment Jim's smile turns bemused, that he's ended up here: wrangling juiced-up senses and their accompanying weird-ass baggage with the aid and comfort of one Blair Sandburg, neo-hippie witch doctor punk. 

He's ended up _here,_ with Blair. Even if it took them long enough -- took _him_ long enough; Blair had all but carved "JE + BS" on every available surface almost from the day they'd met, like some kid with a penknife and a neighborhood tree and his very first romance. Apparently it takes a goddamned sentinel -- or Jim Ellison -- to not notice something until it's somehow gotten itself carved into his heart.

The candlelight on Blair's face catches the upward sweep of eyelashes and the blue of now-open eyes looking towards Jim, dances on lips that are curving into a smile. 

It's a smile that widens as Jim pushes away from the railing and heads for the balcony door. _Warmth._

Waiting inside.


End file.
